


Death and Rebirth

by corvidity



Category: Gintama
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-07 12:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4262610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidity/pseuds/corvidity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takasugi hopes, tentatively, for Shouyou-sensei to unfurl into the dew-dripped morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death and Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> Edited 15 September for general flow and to change the summary.

The butterfly’s wings dry under the weak morning light, new antennae and legs waving feebly. Shouyou-sensei gently pats his head in passing. “I’m glad you’re taking the time to admire new life, Shinsuke,” he says.

The first spring of the war is a complete washout, torrential rains mixing the mud with the blood of bodies neither side has the willpower left to claim. Takasugi stands atop the hill under a light drizzle as a single butterfly flaps past, down to flowers growing among all the ruin.

The second spring of the war, Sakamoto leaves. His farewell is brief, his laughter a little more restrained than it usually is. Takasugi feels the earth pulled out from his feet, leaving him treading the darkness. That spring the butterflies are fewer, but _life returns,_ Shouyou-sensei says, and Takasugi allows himself to dream of a future where they’ll have won and flowers won’t grow on corpses.

The third spring of the war is warm, and the cherry blossoms overflow, their petals scattering as quickly as the lives. Takasugi tears through Amanto after Amanto, his teeth bared and blade bright with blood. In between the sword strokes and blood spray, he lets a butterfly perch on his finger; before long, it flies away with its brethren into the open sky.

The fourth spring of the war, Takasugi starts to count the days by the number of his fallen comrades. When Shouyou-sensei falls, time simply stops: the silver swing of Gintoki’s sword, a head of long hair taking flight in gentle trajectory – and Gintoki’s shattered face, the glint of his tears, the glint of a sword tip – the world in his left eye is searing heat and whiteness, cracking at the seams and spilling so much blood; warm, wet, and sharp, like a blade held at his own throat and –

Takasugi shuts everything out. In blessed silence and darkness, the beast opens one bloodied eye and howls at the heavens, _bring him back._  

When he awakens, the world is still. Dirt soils his palms as he sits up. In the wasted mud there is grass and faint flowers in faded colours, and a butterfly is perched on one, its antennae waving gently, its wings damp. Takasugi hopes, tentatively, for Shouyou-sensei to unfurl into the dew-dripped morning. But nothing emerges, and the butterfly soon takes off, leaving Takasugi to wait for a cocoon that will never open.

 

 

 


End file.
